


Give It Your All

by TheHatterTheory



Series: Nothing Is Sacred [3]
Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Canon Compliant, Depression, Gen, Other, POV, waaaaaagnst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-08 14:51:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHatterTheory/pseuds/TheHatterTheory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I gave it all, and didn't save anything for the eventuality that I might end up right back where I started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give It Your All

**Give It Your All**

**By: The Hatter Theory**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the rights to Inu Yasha

 **A/N:** Because Naq wanted another one. Sorry it's not Miroku's POV Naq, but this is what came out.

* * *

I gave everything. One hundred and ten percent Kagome, that's me. I'm just that sort of girl. I always have been.

I have given.

And given.

And given.

And here, in this city full of people giving it their all, I realize that I am empty. I gave it all, and didn't save anything for the eventuality that I might end up right back where I started. None the wiser. None the nothing, actually. I don't understand people any better, I certainly don't understand myself any better. I'm not stronger, not smarter, not prettier or better. Only empty.

And when you look at me and ask me how I am doing, that's all I can think of. I can't muster a fine, or a well, or even a hello.

It is simply emptiness.

I never held back, and now I hold nothing.

My blank stare must mean something to you, because you open your mouth and I can see words forming.

We are strangers in the middle of a sea of strangers. Shadows hang over us, reminding us of what we once were, and will never be again. Strangers with a past. I can see the memories replaying in your eyes, can see them warring with the uncertainty of how to proceed.

Your mouth closes, nothing has escaped. Even if you always were the silent one, the inability to articulate something isn't your style.

I suppose it's something else different about you.

If I could speak, I'd say that I don't like this new you. You with short, black hair. You with dusky skin. You without your marks. You with ugly, dark brown eyes that aren't gold. You without claws and in modern clothes. You the mundane human. You are not you.

And worse, you are not _him_.

I know it's wrong, but I can't stop myself from hating you for it, just a little.

Maybe this was the loneliness Naraku felt, this hatred sprung on him by the need to feel something. It's bracing and frightening, how easy it is to feel something, anything again. It's terrifying how greedily I latch onto it, knowing it's bad, knowing it will burn, but needing the warmth too much to deny it.

Your mouth opens again, and you look hesitant. Is that what the world has done to the once great lord of the west?

I'm reminded of a stone worn down, weathered until there is nothing left but a pebble. I hate you a little more for letting it all get to you, for wearing down. You were supposed to be strong and fight and always be arrogant and formidable and unyielding.

"You've changed."

Those are the first words after your half muttered, shocked exclamation of my name. Out of everything you could have said, you chose that.

And I find it in myself to hate you little more.

"I'm not the only one," I manage to spit out, the words nothing but vitriol and loathing.

It is the right thing to say, because your eyes harden and for a moment I see the youkai inside of the man. Beneath it all, you are still Sesshoumaru. You are still a link to the past.

And you are walking away, blending into the crowd.

Too late I am screaming your name, realizing that I don't hate you, that I am desperate to know, to remember, to feel something. That the anger is fear and that I am alone and afraid and you can make it go away, you can do something by just being there.

But it is too late, and you are gone. You could easily be a spirit, you have vanished so thoroughly. Ignoring the angry cursing and shouting and grumbles, I shove my way through the crowd. Terrified and manic I am calling out your name, your true name, into the cold winter air. It drifts above to mingle with the breaths and words of a thousand other strangers to become meaningless.

I keep running, I keep screaming. My legs and sides cramp, my throat aches and I go hoarse.

But there is nothing.

The world fades.

I am alone again.

And it is my fault.

I gave that one moment my all.

Too bad it was my worst.

* * *

A/N: Waaaaaaaaaaangst.


End file.
